


Ratchet and Ironhide's Song: The Reason

by EbonyAura



Series: Metal: Cybertron's Rock and Roll [5]
Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Drama & Romance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Face Slapping, Grocery Shopping, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Rock and Roll, Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-10 07:58:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17421980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EbonyAura/pseuds/EbonyAura
Summary: The past has a way of coming back to haunt you.Ratchet may have been the one to introduce Optimus Prime to rock and roll. But who introduced Ratchet?Imagine seven ano cycles after the Autobot and Decepticon bands met, two ano cycles after the lead singers have bonded, Ratchet is taking the time to enjoy a break from their numerous world tours. That is, until a stressed Optimus Prime runs into someone familiar at the grocery store, and the doc-bot's aging spark is flipped upside down.Lies are uncovered, truths are revealed, tensions are rising, and emotions are running high. And from Ratchet's experience, an event like this will only end in pain, tragedy, and someone leaving... Because that's what they always do. Leave.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I regret nothing. I love this pair (almost) as much as I love my megop.   
> None of the songs quoted in this story or the characters belong to me. They are the property of their respective owners.  
> Enjoy!

“So first it was Nova Cronum, then Tyrest, followed by Polyhex, then Helex, which was then followed by Vos? Primus, Optimus, how are you still standing?!”  
  
“Honestly, old friend? I have no idea.”  
  
Lights hovering over his helm on the ceiling reflected off the datapad in his servo. The resulting glare shined right into his optics, and he recycled them again to scan over the long shopping list. Optimus had not gotten nearly enough recharge this past week for this. He’d spent it in one city-state after another, appearing on only a handful of talk shows and radio stations out of the dozens that had been clamoring for his and his bonded’s appearance. Having forgotten to restock the pantry and cabinets, they’d come home to no energon left in the apartment. Stress-levels had been put through the roof for the both of them, so now his processor was killing him.  
  
Why the frag did he not make Megatron go to the market this cycle instead?  
  
Ratchet sighed over the link, a silent sound that the Prime had come to know by spark. He was probably also pinching the nasal bridge on his faceplates, like he always did when Optimus ran himself into the ground.  
  
“You need a long soak in an oil bath. And recharge. But I think you should hit the oil bath first.”  
  
The Prime could’ve groaned at the phantom sensation of being surrounded by such encompassing warmth. Shuttering his optics and releasing a long vent, he scanned the shelves for best credit price for the large pack of rust sticks on the list.  
  
“Don’t tempt me, Ratchet. I still have errands to run before the cycle ends.”  
  
Picking up the package on the lowest shelf, he hefted it into the bottom of the shopping cart before exiting the aisle and entering the next one. He crossed off another line on the datapad, finding the next to be a new container of energon sweeteners. His bonded didn’t care for them, but he sure as Pit did. And if the Kaonian knew what was good for him, he wasn’t going to complain if Optimus got an extra container.  
  
“So anyway, how was Vos? I heard they renovated a lot of the science and research facilities since we were last there. Did you get to see them?”  
  
Ratchet’s inquiry passed over the link as the Prime plucked two containers of sweeteners from the shelf above his helm.  
  
“Unfortunately, no I didn’t. We never thought about it before—”  
  
His link pinged him, and his bonded’s code flashed. Optimus frowned.  
  
“Ratchet, Megatron’s pinging me. May I call you back?”  
  
The doc-bot snorted at his so-near-aggravated tone, and he could almost see Ratchet shaking his helm at him.  
  
“You’d better. This conversation is not over!”  
  
“Yes Ratchet.”  
  
He sighed before closing the link and opening a new one with his bonded.  
  
“What is it, Megatron?”  
  
The Decepticon probably knew he was trying not to sound exasperated, but he _did_ interrupt his much more pleasant call with Ratchet.  
  
“Did I put ground copper on the list?”  
  
He asked promptly. Optimus recycled his optics, this time in confusion, and scanned the list again.  
  
“… No, you didn’t. What would you need that for?”  
  
Slowly ambling his way past a group of minibots who were babbling excitedly over sweeteners, he scanned the signs overhead to find the minerals and salts aisle. The patience he held onto was thinner than he would’ve like to admit as he waited for answer. His bonded was probably reading something on the other side of the link.  
  
“There’s a formula here in the Kaoni Weekly for a copper and high grade concoction, and I thought while you were at the market you could pick up a batch and we could try it?”  
  
Optimus winced when the glare of the light on his datapad hit his optics again, and he set it down. This time he didn’t try to hide the exasperation in his voice.  
  
“Megatron, we just got back from our trip, and I’m tired. Can’t we wait until next cycle before I have to cook anything more complicated than hot energon?”  
  
Megatron huffed lightly over the link.  
  
“Well, if you want to take the afternoon cycle to relax, then just pick it up and I’ll make it.”  
  
The Prime could’ve laughed out loud and screamed in horror at that declaration as his cart reached the end of the aisle. The peds of the minibots pitter-pattered past as the group marched around his cart and around the corner.  
  
“Not in our kitchen space! The last time I let you cook anything, you blew up the energon heater and set off the smoke alarm!”  
  
In their bond, Optimus felt the tendrils of Megatron’s spark curl indignantly.  
  
“How was I supposed to know that coolant would catch fire?!”  
  
He knew that this would probably end in an argument the both of them would regret later on, and he was still too tired for this.  
  
“Coolant contains purified Butane! Butane is _extremely_ flammable! There was even a label on the container that specifically cautioned against heating--!”  
  
Optimus turned out of aisle and around the corner as he bickered into the comm link, not noticing other mecha walking around him.  
  
“—Argh! Get out of my way!”  
  
He only looked up just in time to see a large and bulky black mech stumble sideways as the group of minibots swamped him as they went into the next aisle. Then, proceeded to trip and fall backwards into the side of his cart. Optimus felt the grip he had on the handle bars yank him with the cart and the mecha to the ground, jamming his shoulder joint and knocking his already sore helm on the hard floor.  
  
“Optimus? Is everything alright?”  
  
When his optics recalibrated a few nanoseconds later, the first thing they focused on was the contents of the cart scattered across the floor. He groaned and rubbed the side of his helm that hit the floor, feeling a much worse processor ache coming on.  
  
“I can’t do this right now, Tron. I’ll call you back.”  
  
He broke off the link before the Kaonian could respond and blocked off the bond to fend off the worry that would’ve soon begun to trickle from the other side. Beside him, the black mech still splayed over the side of the cart emitted a low groan of pain. He sat up slowly, rubbing the back of his neck cables with a weathered servo. Optimus sat up with him, grabbing the cracked datapad that had been the list as the black mech turned to him.  
  
“Hey there, I’m real sorry ‘bout that—”  
  
The Prime looked up at the bot, their optics locked, and they both froze in place. Recognition protocols clicked as he stared hard at the dulled silver faceplate, worn over by faded welding lines. Dark red accents on his chest plates circled his thick neck armor and stood out on the ends of his shoulder joints. His arm and leg struts weren’t longer than average, but well-armored. Sitting over the red accents, two iron-cast plates wrapped up and around his shoulders to curve into spear-heads above his helm. But amidst all his jagged edges, alert blue optics shone vibrantly. Air caught in his intakes.  
  
“It can’t be…”  
  
He whispered in shock. A long-stored memory file pressed at the forefront of his consciousness, the only one of its kind that contained an image of this bot but would’ve surely never been forgotten. Said bot recycled his optics, as if trying to believe this encounter himself. Then, the unmistakable gruff and rolling voice of the mech from the memory file slowly stammered out of the intake of the bot before him.  
  
“Orion…?”  
  
After a moment, he shed a small smile and shrugged one shoulder, optics averting to the floor.  
  
“Actually, I go by Optimus Prime now.”


	2. Chapter 2

The Metal radio station hummed in the background, trading silence for the sound of emerging rock bands from all over the world. Some of them were pretty good. Some of them would’ve sounded better locked in a box. But the attention given to the songs was fleeting, never more than a moment of recognition before the mech listening to them fell back into the haze between reality and stasis.  
  
Ratchet’s optics skimmed over each word on the datapad carefully as the gears in his processor spun and whirred. The sun flooded through the window onto the couch, and his frame curled into the warm cushioning in a show of rare indulgence. While the body absorbed the pleasurable rays of light, the mind was lost to the setting of the story he read. Far away planets that held sights one mech could only imagine in recharge. He could compare the experiences cited by word to the memory files stored away, only to be looked upon when he was alone and free of prying eyes.  
  
Moments like these made Ratchet appreciate the long break his band had before anymore tours were scheduled for them. Likely, it would only be of their current city-state, since three world tours had put them through one Pit of a lifetime experience. They enjoyed it, they thanked Primus for it, but now it was time for them to settle and rest. Or, more likely, it was time for the old doc-bot to get off his creaky joints and revel in the simpler pleasures.  
  
He wouldn’t admit out loud just yet how old he actually felt. His youth had begun long before he’d met Orion, back when he’d attended the Iaconian Academy with a focus in the medical field. He’d been long into it when the beautiful tragedy that was his oldest friend stumbled into his life cycle from the temple. Ratchet didn’t think much of the life he’d had before meeting the Prime, but when he did in moments such as these, he remembered them in fleeting flicks of attention like when he listened to the radio. A glimpse of the steel outer walls of Tarn, or the glittering archives of Nova Cronum. The sounds of ground racers’ thundering engines on the tracks of Praxus and Helex. The bittersweet taste of mineral-rich high grade in Kaon. The feel of flight beside the seekers in Vos.  
  
Doc-bot had been everywhere already. Now, he’d gone everywhere a couple more times to beat. He was tired. Not that he would admit it to the others. But life was a glitch if you let it run you into the ground when you got old. That’s why his keyboard sat unused on the other side of the living space, and he devoted time this cycle to himself. Because Primus knew, Optimus might think it was perfectly fine to overwork himself to the point of shutdown, but if _he_ overworked the Prime would never let him hear the end of it.  
  
Another song ended on the radio, and Banger’s smooth broadcast had only just begun when the doc-bot’s comm link pinged.  
  
_Speaking of the glitch…_  
  
Ratchet thought to himself with an amused hum as the Prime’s code flashed over his optics. Only about two groons later from when they’d broken the link, when Optimus had promised to call him right back. He’d probably gotten into a lengthy conversation with his bonded or was focused purely on finishing his errands and the call had slipped his processor. Shutting off the datapad and setting it off to the side, he didn’t bother to move from the comfortable position he’d found himself under the warm light as he answered the ping.  
  
“Well it took you long enough to call back.”  
  
He quipped, but there was no force to the punch.  
  
“Ratchet! You’re never going to believe this! Don’t tell me you can because you’ve seen everything, this time I promise you that you’re never going to have seen this one coming!”  
  
The doc-bot recycled his optics twice, taken aback by how light, jittery, and excited the Prime’s voice was as he babbled into the link. He pushed himself up into a sitting position, optics flicking to the floor as he listened.  
  
“Wait a minute, Optimus, calm your circuits before you blow them! You sound like you just found out you’re sparked!”  
  
When the Prime laughed in response, it sounded so near a devious giggle that Ratchet’s processor halted in confusion. Optimus didn’t laugh like that, but Orion did. When in Primus’ name was the last time he’d sounded so much like his old self?  
  
“Primus no! This time it doesn’t have anything to do with me!”  
  
“Then don’t keep me in the dark, what is it??”  
  
He asked louder into the comm, suspense starting to climb up the tendrils of his spark and bloom.  
  
“Ok, you’re never going to believe it, but I ran into an old friend of yours at the market! Well, more like I was arguing with Megatron and wasn’t paying attention to where I was going. Then _he_ got swamped by a group of minibots and ran into my shopping cart and we both went tumbling to the ground. But then when I _looked_ at him—”  
  
Optimus was babbling again, and Ratchet could barely keep up with the details. He gestured absently with his servo as he stopped his friend’s explanation.  
  
“Hold on! Hold on! I barely caught any of that, did you say you ran into an old friend of mine?”  
  
Now that got his processor turning. He didn’t have many of those, especially any that Orion might’ve known. There was First Aid, a medic he had worked with while interning at a small clinic _many_ ano cycles ago that he’d gotten along with. But from what he remembered of the bot, he doubted any conversation that would’ve been struck up after running into the Prime would’ve involved him.  
  
“Yes! And he—well—Actually, Ratchet, can you meet me at the fountains in ten kliks? I know you won’t believe it if I tell you over the link, it would probably be better if you just saw him for yourself.”  
  
Ratchet was still racking his processor, trying to figure out who of all bots Optimus might’ve run into, but dismissing each possibility just as quickly. At this point he had no clue, and it was frustrating. He huffed, crossing his arms over his chest plates.  
  
“Let me guess, now you won’t tell me who it is until I agree and meet you at the fountains?”  
  
He could hear the precise moment when that devious smile returned to the Prime’s voice.  
  
“Yep!”  
  
_I guess there’s no choice in the matter now._  
  
He put his servos under him and pushed himself up off the couch with a small groan, already missing the warmth. His joints creaked minutely under the pressure, but they were ignored.  
  
“Fine, fine. I’ll be there in ten kliks. Don’t blow your circuits before I get there.”


	3. Chapter 3

As he turned the corner to walk the rest of the way down the street towards the circle of fountains, he found Optimus pacing a few lengths back and forth at the end of the sidewalk. Ratchet chuckled to himself. It seemed that the Prime had completely forgotten about his exhaustion in the excitement of events this cycle. He would probably regret it when he crashed into recharge later on. The doc-bot decided not to give away any hint of his presence until he was standing in front of his friend.  
  
“Have you walked a ditch into the ground yet?”  
  
He started with easygoing amusement. Optimus immediately halted and looked up, expression lightening. The edge of Ratchet’s lip plates twitched up into a half grin as he crossed his arms over his chest plates and cocked a hip.  
  
“So, what was so important that I had to meet you here for you to tell me?”  
  
The Prime’s optics flickered and glanced behind him too quickly for Ratchet to take heed of.  
  
“Well...”  
  
It was then that Optimus stepped to the side and gestured behind himself. When Ratchet turned his attention towards the largest fountain in the plaza, he found a dark bulky bot standing in front of it.  
  
Their optics locked.  
  
His arms fell to his sides as his spark stilled in its casing.  
  
_No… It can’t be…_  
  
His processor glitched on the designation that belonged to the mech.  
  
_It’s not you…_  
  
The shock that had hit him seemed to have hit the other just as hard. His arm struts and servos were slack at his sides, and his optics had cycled as wide as they could go. The scars above his left brow plate and on the side of his bottom lip plate glinted dully.  
  
_Primus below…_  
  
He remembered those scars.  
  
He remembered how they felt when they’d brushed his faceplate. How the one on the lip plate tasted when they’d kissed.  
  
_Ironhide._  
  
The shock wore off in an instant, and his peds were moving before his processor could register their actions.  
  
The mech before him, still stuck in his own stupor, watched the orange and white bot’s blank expression as he approached in stillness. His intake opened and the gruffness in his voice gave way to a quiet awe.  
  
“Ratch…”  
  
He stopped half an arm’s length in front of the bot and smacked him across the faceplates.  
  
Optimus jolted at the action, surprised swirling in his field as he watched Ironhide’s helm jerk to the side. He grunted, slowly turning his helm back to look at the doc-bot with a guilty and pinched expression.  
  
“… Yeah, probably deserved that.”  
  
Ironhide drawled quietly, watching the orange and white bot’s expression with cautious optics. Ratchet stared at him blankly for a moment.  
  
“That was to confirm you’re not a hallucination.”  
  
The bulky bot blinked, taken aback by the statement. But before he could respond he was slapped again, this time, _much_ harder. So hard in fact that he stumbled a step to the side and nearly fell into the fountain.  
  
“ _That_ was what you deserved.”  
  
When he dared to steal a glance of Ratchet again, he winced as he found himself subjected to a glare that could’ve thrown him into the Pit with Unicron.  
  
“WHERE IN THE NAME OF OUR CREATORS HAVE YOU BEEN?!”  
  
Ratchet roared, attracting the attention of bots passing by who quickly dispersed at the building danger of the scene. Not that he noticed them, or that he would’ve cared. His attention was on Ironhide, who was about to be put through a slow and painful deactivation.  
  
“Ratch…”  
  
Ironhide could feel the wrath and vengeful fury rolling in the other’s familiar field like the force of an explosion. He could only be thankful that the bot didn’t seem to currently have a wrench on his persona. But he was definitely not done screaming at him.  
  
“FORTY ANO CYCLES! YOU LEFT ME IN IACON AND DISAPPEARED OFF THE FACE OF CYBERTRON FOR FORTY ANO CYCLES!”  
  
_Oh scrap._  
  
Optimus was starting to think that maybe this reunion hadn’t been such a good idea, if the heat blistering off the doc-bot’s frame and the sorry-he-was-ever-created expression on Ironhide’s faceplates were any indication.  
  
But as far as he’d known, Ratchet and Ironhide had parted ways because it hadn’t been working out. He’d never heard anything about Ironhide leaving. And the bulky mech had so adamantly agreed to the idea of seeing Ratchet again…  
  
“I know Ratchet, and I… I messed up pretty bad this time.”  
  
Neither Ratchet or Optimus had ever heard the tough old soldier sound so quiet. Or guilty.  
  
“YOU THINK?!”  
  
But Ratchet still didn’t care. Not when his spark was whirling with so much excitement, sorrow, love and pain that it all jumbled together into the hysterical anger he found himself in. For all he’d known Ratchet had thought that Ironhide was probably dead by now or lost to the stars.  
  
At this point, he would’ve been better off dead.  
  
“Ratch, I’m real sorry. I’m sorry ‘bout everything—”  
  
Ironhide’s field was heavy with sorrow, reflected off the orange and white bot’s anger.  
  
“SHUT UP.”  
  
Ratchet didn’t let him finish.  
  
“I DON’T WANT TO HEAR IT!”  
  
It was then that Ratchet turned on a heel and stalked away, leaving Optimus to stare after him in shock and Ironhide to watch him go with a heavy sigh.  
  
“Ratchet!”  
  
The Prime called after, but the doc-bot paid it no heed. They both were left in silence as Ratchet turned the corner and was gone. Optimus felt the sorrow laced in the other’s field and turned around to see the bulky mech sit on the side of the fountain, rubbing the side of his faceplate that had been slapped.  
  
“Still hits harder than a slaggin’ enforcer.”  
  
Ironhide said absently, a small sad smile coming to his lip plates.  
  
Optimus frowned as he stepped over to the other mech, wrapping his arms around himself.  
  
“I’m sorry Ironhide. If I’d known he would react that way, I would’ve never suggested you meet.”  
  
The bulky mech shook his helm as he stared at the ground.  
  
“Don’t bust a bolt over it, Prime. I didn’t expect him to react any better… Slaggit, I’m surprised he even talked to me.”  
  
Sitting beside the old soldier with concern overshadowing his optics, Optimus let his magnetic field reach out to try to comfort the mech.  
  
“What will you do now?”  
  
Ironhide shrugged, looking up with distant optics at the bots walking around them.  
  
“Dunno. Sold the ship, so I won’t be goin’ anywhere anytime soon. Guess I gotta find a place to stay, and a job.”  
  
Silence edged its way between them. Optimus couldn’t help the pity he felt for the mech. But if there’s one thing he remembered about Ironhide, it was that he wouldn’t accept pity. Just like Ratchet. Not to mention that once he set his processor on something, nothing was going to stop him. Also, just like Ratchet. They were both the most stubborn mecha he’d ever known. Not counting Megatron. He had no doubt Ironhide would do what he said… But that didn’t mean he couldn’t help him along the way.  
  
A smile came back to his faceplates as he nudged the old soldier’s shoulder.  
  
“Ironhide, you remember my apartment, right?”


	4. Chapter 4

The door slammed behind him when Ratchet threw it back into the frame.  
  
Blistering heat from rage still emanated from his plating as he stomped into his living space, pacing back in forth in front of the couch.  
  
His processor was cluttered. So many questions were circling his neural net at the speed of light. Assumptions and conclusions were flinging themselves left and right like bots throwing themselves out of the way of a trash compactor. Memory files clawed at the forefront of his mind, clamoring for his attention as they called out his name in a low and gruff voice. They all left him disoriented and confused.  
  
But they did not come close to the mess that had been left of his spark. It didn’t seem to know what to feel.  
  
_He came back…_  
  
It would pulse so strong that it left him ventless.  
  
_HE LEFT ME!!_  
  
Then it would curl in and crumble on itself.  
  
_Does he still care?_  
  
It was sheer agony.  
  
_HE NEVER CARED._  
  
And it wouldn’t stop.  
  
Halting in mid-step, Ratchet’s helm whipped to the couch. Sunlight no longer shone on the soft cushioning. But the datapad he’d been reading before still sat in his place. Pristine, abandoned, and waiting.  
  
With a pained shout, he grabbed the datapad and threw it to the other side of the room. It smacked against the wall, leaving a dent, and shattered on the floor beside his keyboard.  
  
_“Ratch…”_  
  
_Why did you come back you glitched fool?_  
  
The seats were cold when his knees gave out and he collapsed onto the couch. The radio still played as he buried his face in his servos, and his shoulders shook from quiet sobs.


	5. Chapter 5

“Optimus. Who is this?”  
  
Megatron eyed the bulky mech next to his bonded with a wary expression and a raised brow plate. Optimus smiled as he gestured to the old soldier with his servos full of grocery bags.  
  
“Megatron, this is Ironhide, an old friend I ran into at the market. He just arrived in Iacon and needs a place to stay for a few cycles. Ironhide, this is my bonded, Megatron.”  
  
Ironhide inclined his helm respectfully to the tall silver Kaonian.  
  
“It’s an honor. Your work is impressive.”  
  
Megatron wasn’t quick to nod back as he returned his gaze to the Prime.  
  
“We just got back from our trip. I would’ve thought you’d call to discuss this with me before bringing a mech home.”  
  
His gaze grew pointed, and Optimus felt the fledglings of unease and suspicion over their bond. He responded by narrowing his optics.  
  
“This isn’t Kaon. He’s not going to attempt to snuff our sparks in recharge and steal our valuables. He is an old friend in need of help, and you know well I do not turn away friends.”  
  
His bonded grumbled under his vents but did not argue otherwise. Beside him, Ironhide’s field mirrored the unease in his bond. He was, as everyone else had been when the first met him, rightfully intimidated by Megatron. Optimus turned to him with a reassuring smile.  
  
“Come, Ironhide. The kitchen space is this way.”  
  
He led the way past his aggravated bonded, and Ironhide followed close behind. He could feel Megatron’s optics burn holes into his backplates as they entered the kitchen. Walking up beside the Prime, he placed the grocery bags on the counter and glanced over at him.  
  
“You sure this is alright, Prime? Your bonded don’t seem to like me all that much.”  
  
Optimus waved off the concern with a servo as he also set bags on the counter.  
  
“He’ll get over it. He’s bad-tempered, possessive, and will leave your audials ringing if you wake him up without energon nearby. But I think he’ll warm up to you. And if he doesn’t I’ll make him recharge on the couch.”  
  
The Prime turned to the doorway.  
  
“Isn’t that right, sweetspark?”  
  
Confused, Ironhide turned towards the doorway and stilled when he saw the mech leaning against the door frame casually. His expression was dark.  
  
_Mech, he’s good. Gonna have to watch my fraggin’ back around here._  
  
“Ironhide, why don’t you have a seat in the living space, make yourself at home? I’ll be there in a klik with energon.”  
  
The bulky mech nodded immediately, keeping his distance as he walked around the Kaonian back into the living space. Megatron’s optics followed until he’d left the room. Optimus watched from the corner of his optic as his bonded then pushed himself off the door frame and stepped up beside him.  
  
“What do you mean by bringing this mech here? Who is he?”  
  
He growled low. The Prime turned to face his bonded.  
  
“He was a weapon’s master in the Cyber War Forces a long time ago. After retiring, he and Ratchet became partners and traveled Cybertron for a while. But when I tried to reunite them earlier this cycle, Ratchet slapped him twice and blew up at him.”  
  
The sneer on Megatron’s faceplate began to recede. He continued.  
  
“I haven’t seen him so angry in such a long time… I for one would like to know why they reacted like that seeing each other again, and why Ratchet lied to me about how they split.”  
  
Optimus knew Megatron felt the determination in his spark. Glancing back towards the doorway where Ironhide was in the living space, the Kaonian sighed as his attention came back to his bonded.  
  
“Tread carefully. If this situation is as serious as you say it is, then one wrong inquiry could earn you eternal silence on the subject… Or set off this weapons’ master’s temper.”  
  
His lip plates twitched into a small smile, and he pushed reassurance over their bond.  
  
“Ironhide’s a good mech. He would never hurt anyone without a logical reason.”  
  
Sending a soft pulse to Megatron’s spark, the Prime reached down into one of the grocery bags and pulled out two blue cubes of energon. Before walking out of the room, he turned to his bonded still standing by the kitchen counter.  
  
“Oh, by the way, the ground copper’s in one of those bags. If you can find it while putting away the groceries, I’ll make us that copper high grade this evening cycle.”  
  
Megatron was quick to get to work in the kitchen after that, and Optimus shook his helm with a smile as he entered the living space.  
  
The old weapons’ master was the picture of awkward as he sat in the middle of one of the couches, glancing at his surroundings silently and twitching his digits every few nanoseconds. When the Prime strode towards him and offered one of the cubes, he took it with a quiet ‘thanks’ and then stared at it blankly. Optimus took a seat on the couch across from him, tucking his legs up and onto the seat cushioning. He sipped from his own cube, trying to figure out how to start this without sounding rash.  
  
“So… You and Magnus too?”  
  
Ironhide eventually started slowly, breaking the silence that had tensed around them. Optimus’ helm jerked up quickly at the mentioning of his old partner.  
  
“What?”  
  
The bulky mech recycled his optics, then spoke again cautiously.  
  
“You and Ultra Magnus had it goin’ good last time I saw… Guess it didn’t work out?”  
  
The Prime’s optics averted to the cube in his servo, and he fell quiet. In the kitchen area, Megatron stopped moving, feeling the melancholy that had fallen over his bonded’s spark. He felt more than he heard the warbling rumble from the Kaonian that always had soothed him in times like this.  
  
Ironhide watched him curiously, before his field echoed an apology in the prolonged silence.  
  
“Ehm… Sorry, was it somethin’ I said?”  
  
Optimus fended off the sigh rising in his chest, and he met Ironhide’s optics again.  
  
“Ultra Magnus passed onto the Well many ano cycles ago. It was a vehicular accident.”  
  
The weapons’ master’s optics cycled wide, and he cursed under a vent.  
  
“Slaggit, Prime, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t a brought it up.”  
  
Optimus shook his helm lightly.  
  
“It’s alright, Ironhide.”  
  
Silence fell over them again like a blanket, but this time Ironhide was quicker to break it as he cleared his intake.  
  
“So, your bonded… Megatron… he treats you well?”  
  
For a moment, Optimus stared at him blankly. But then a small smirk rose to his faceplates as he raised a brow plate.  
  
“If you mean, ‘has he ever raised a servo to me,’ no he hasn’t. That would be my ex-agent.”  
  
Ironhide’s optics cycled wide again and he slapped a servo over his faceplates as if punishing himself for the question.  
  
“Wasn’t what I meant, but alright… Wait, ex-agent?”  
  
Putting up a servo to dissuade going further into this topic, Optimus shook his helm.  
  
“It’s a long story, I’ll explain at a later time. And I know what you meant, Ironhide. You’re not the first bot who’s pulled me aside to clarify that Megatron is not domestically violent.”  
  
This time, Ironhide was the one who fell silent as he thought about the implications of the statement. It was almost amusing, if one didn’t realize what kind of a story could come from Optimus’ hesitation. The Prime took another sip from his cube before setting it on the arm of the couch beside him.  
  
“Ironhide… Ratchet originally told me that you two parted ways because the relationship wasn’t working any longer. Why would he say that you left him?”  
  
He spoke evenly, not attempting to imply any reactions he’d already had. Ironhide’s field seemed to sink to the depths of the floor around him by the weight of the gloom he carried. His optics averted to the cube in his servo, and the dark, miserable chuckle he gave echoed around him.  
  
“Guess I’m not surprised he would say that first. Ratch never would’ve wanted any bots feelin’ sorry for him.”  
  
The bulky mech heavily vented, as if preparing himself for what he had to say next.  
  
“… But nothin’ could be further from the truth, Prime.”  
  
Optimus’ spark flared, but he reigned it in to keep stoic faceplates.  
  
“What me and Ratchet had… It was special. Somethin’ I never thought could exist for an old war frame like myself… He’s my everythin’.”  
  
Suddenly, his fists gripped the cube so hard they started to shake, and the cube creaked under the pressure.  
  
“And yet I left him and ran… Like a fraggin’ coward.”  
  
The growl was so low his audials almost couldn’t register it. Optimus could only compare it to a curse. The weapon’s master was cursing himself. He’d only ever heard him curse the bots he used to fight.  
  
“Why, Ironhide? Tell me why.”  
  
Optimus said insistently, making the bulky mech look up. The Prime’s expression was stoic, but kind. He wanted to know, but he wouldn’t judge off the bat if he could help it. Ironhide supposed he appreciated the sentiment.  
  
_May as well. What’ve I got to lose now?_  
  
Setting down the cube in his servos, he rolled his shoulders to rid them loose of the tension that he knew would return soon. It always returned when he talked about Ratchet.  
  
“You remember how we met, Prime?”  
  
Optimus nodded.  
  
“Of course. Ultra Magnus and I had gone to Swindles to meet you and Ratchet for a double date. And then not long after that, you took Ratchet with you all over Cybertron.”  
  
Ironhide nodded slowly, recalling the same memory file of that rambunctious night cycle in a fancy restaurant. Ultra Magnus had clearly been suspicious of him, all enforcers were, but he’d kept his silence to let them all have a good time. In the end, both Ratchet and him ended up overcharged on sweet vintage high grade, and Ratchet’s friends had to take them to his apartment to avoid any accidents. He vented heavily again.  
  
“I’d never meant to stay in Iacon that long… One of the rotary engines on my ship had fried, and it was only supposed to be a two-week repair.”  
  
The Prime remembered that. The weapon’s master had mentioned it during the beginning of their double date after they’d asked how long he’d been in Iacon. He’d been there for over four stellar cycles. He also remembered how careless Ironhide’s attitude had seemed towards that fact. Especially when Ratchet had leaned against his shoulder armor with a purr, and he’d looked upon the medic-in-training with the same gleam that appeared in Ultra’s optics when he looked at Orion.  
  
“I was a drifter, Prime. After retiring from the forces, all I wanted was the chance to enjoy freedom. The open space, high grade, a good frag every once in a while… That was my life cycle.”  
  
The side of his lip plates then twitched up in what could’ve been a smile.  
  
“But Ratchet… He was different. Didn’t realize it at first, thought he’d just be another one-cycle fling at the bar with a wicked temper to boot. But Primus slaggit, that medic was a looker, and he was the best frag I’d ever had… Hadn’t kept track of the cycles that passed after that, just wanted to spend them with him.”  
  
Ironhide spoke quietly, with a tenderness that had been rare before but had seemed to break his rough façade. Optimus let a small grin come to his faceplates as he listened.  
  
“After we did that date at Swindles, think it finally caught up with me how long I’d been there, and I was itchin’ to take off again. But every time I thought ‘bout leavin’ Ratch, my spark hurt _bad_ … So, I took him with me.”  
  
_Ratchet had been so excited too._  
  
The Prime recalled the cycle he’d burst into his apartment, leaping in joy like a sparkling at the opportunity to travel the world with his partner. Orion couldn’t help but share his excitement, even if he didn’t know when they’d see each other again. Or when the next time they would, happened to be the cycle after Ultra had asked him to bond.  
  
The weapons’ master stared at a point on the floor, but his optics were distant and unfocused. He was recalling memory files.  
  
“We went _everywhere_. Wanted him to see everythin’ I’d seen, and more. Seein’ him happy was the best part. An’ you know what’s funny? I can’t even count the number a bots that approached me when he wasn’t lookin’, askin’ for a frag. Turned down every one of ‘em. Cause I’d look at him, we’d do it again, and it’d feel like the first time all over.”  
  
The next memory file the played at the forefront of his processor made his spark seize, and Ironhide’s shoulders suddenly tensed.  
  
“One cycle, we landed back in Iacon to refuel the ship. Hadn’t meant to stay over the night cycle, but all it took was a ‘come get me’ grin from that slagger and we were at it again at the interstate inn. Primus knows I’d tried to resist.”  
  
Ironhide paused, knowing the next words out of his intake would tear him apart all over again.  
  
“I’d woke at dawn the next cycle, he was still rechargin’. I remember lookin’ at him, watching the sun rise through the window behind him. It shined real pretty on his armor, my spark wouldn’t stop poundin’… An’ I remember it hit me, what’d I do for him. I’d throw myself back into the Cyber forces an’ kill another thousand bots for him. I’d put myself between him an’ a blaster an’ die for him. I’d sell my own ship an’ use the credits to buy him anything he asked… I’d give up my freedom, the one thing in my life cycle that I’d treasured most, all for him… An’ that scared the ever livin’ Pit outta me.”  
  
The stoic expression on the Prime’s faceplate had begun to fade, giving way to one of building realization and empathy for another hurting spark. Ironhide’s vents shuddered silently.  
  
“Cause what if he got tired of travelin’ an’ wanted to settle down? How was I supposed to give up the only life I’d ever known outside the forces? I didn’t know anythin’ else, besides freedom or Ratch… Didn’t realize until it was too late that it’d become a choice, an’ I’d let my fraggin’ processor decide… I left while he was still rechargin’ without even lookin’ back.”  
  
Optimus’ spark flared at the blunt statement. Ironhide’s shoulders drooped.  
  
“It _hurt_. I’d been shot, beaten, and ripped apart on the battle field so many times before. But they were nothin’ compared to how much it hurt after I left Ratch. Was almost like someone’d ripped my spark in half… Cycles after that blurred, barely even kept track of ‘em anymore. Couldn’t even think about fraggin’ another bot without seein’ him in their place, so I kept to myself. Freedom wasn’t even worth nothin’ anymore, not without him… Was only after talkin’ to this red bartender in Kaon, could a swore he was a racer, that I realized the mistake I’d made. He’d said, ‘If you love a bot enough that everything else falls away, then there’s no reason to be afraid of what comes next. You just have to hold them tight, learn to change, and hope for the best.’”  
  
A slow nod followed as the Prime thought about it. Nothing could’ve been more true about love. About spark resonance. About what _he’d_ gone through to get to this point, as well as Ironhide. The bulky mech’s optics kept shuttering, and he kept his silence on the coolant that was surely being fought back.  
  
“I drifted for a while after that, tryin’ to work up the courage to come back to Iacon. But facin’ Ratch after what I’d done? Was almost unthinkable. Didn’t know what I was more scared of, seein’ him or bein’ rejected by him. It made me so slaggin’ angry that I couldn’t do it… An’ you know what finally knocked my aft into gear? Was at a bar in Tarn, an’ this group a bots was talkin’ bout’ a band playin’ on the television. Didn’t pay it any mind ‘til I heard a voice so _fraggin’ familiar_ , an’ when I looked it was _him_. Didn’t even notice you or your other band members, it was _my_ Ratch singin’ on the television. Primus he was still a looker, as young an’ alive as I remembered him… Came back to Iacon, sold my ship soon as I got here, an’ swore to myself I would find him. If for nothin’ else than to say sorry, then so be it. I just had to see him _one more time_.”  
  
Ironhide finally met the Prime’s optics once again, and a single stream of coolant ran down his silver scarred faceplates.  
  
“I was a _fraggin’ coward_ , Prime. Left the only bot I ever loved for a dream I’d already had in my servos. He’s right to be angry at me, curse me, throw me in the Pit… All I want now is for him to know how sorry I am. An’ maybe, _somehow_ , make this right.”  
  
Finally, they fell into silence again. Ironhide suddenly seemed to realize how weak he looked and brushed the coolant away from his optic with a grunt. Optimus watched him as he processed everything he’d just heard. Ironhide had made a terrible mistake, that much was obvious, and it affected Ratchet as much as it affected him. He was right, Ratchet _did_ have every right to be as angry at him as he was… But if there was one thing Optimus knew to believe in, it was second chances.  
  
The Prime’s field reached out to weave into the outer edges of the weapons’ master’s field. It made Ironhide look up and see the small, sad smile on his faceplate.  
  
“You’re right Ironhide, that is a terrible mistake to make. One that will definitely be hard to make right… But I believe every bot deserves the opportunity for redemption.”  
  
Ironhide’s optics cycled wider as Optimus flashed him a wink.  
  
“Let me talk to Ratchet first. There is much I wish to discuss with him as well. I’m not sure how much it will assist, but now that I’ve heard your side of the story I can take it up with him, and try to put a good word in for you if I can… Until then, you are welcome to stay here as long as you need.”


	6. Chapter 6

Two weeks passed slowly on the chronometer, and Ratchet never returned any of the Prime’s calls. Chances were, Ratchet was either angry at him for arranging this, or was ignoring him because of the spark hurt he’d reignited. Optimus did feel a bit guilty but knew that nothing would improve unless they talked about it.  
  
In that time period, Ironhide quickly got a job repairing and building outdated Cyber force blasters in a pawn shop on the edge of the city. It wasn’t a long drive and the pay was good for a pawn shop, so he threw himself into it. Of course, it would take much longer before he had enough credits to rent his own place, even with the profits from his ship. So, he took the guest bedroom and tried not to make himself anymore of a burden than he was. Optimus never minded. And to his pleasant relief, Megatron made the effort to get along with the weapons’ master, which ended up being little to none. He’d often emerge from the kitchen space to find Megatron and Ironhide in the living space, sharing energon and exchanging stories for groons. His bonded seemed especially fascinated by Ironhide’s war stories, and his taste in high grade. The Prime could’ve laughed when he realized one afternoon cycle how well they got along, compared to his first partner’s opinion on Ironhide… But as the cycles passed, he worried more for his old friend that refused to speak with him.  
  
He’d had enough.  
  
Ratchet jumped when he’d heard a knock at his door. But at this point, he knew exactly who it was.  
  
He stood from where he’d been curled under a thermal blanket on the couch, recycling his optics and wiping at the dried streaks of coolant on his faceplates. It wouldn’t make much of a difference, but he tried anyway. His movements were automatic as he stepped up to the door and turned the knob, letting it swing open to face the Prime who stood before him.  
  
Immediately, the Prime stepped forward into the doorframe.  
  
“Please, don’t shut the door on me, old friend.”  
  
Ratchet snorted lightly, instead stepped to the side to let him in.  
  
“If I did, you would stand there for the rest of the cycle before breaking down my door.”  
  
Optimus stepped in cautiously, his optics never straying from Ratchet. The doc-bot never met his optics as he spoke, and he sounded exhausted. As if he’d aged another fifty ano cycles in these past two weeks from grief alone. It pained Optimus to hear it.  
  
“Ratchet, we need to talk.”  
  
The doc-bot shut the door behind him, turning and walking towards the opposite wall in his kitchen space, the first room next to the door. He leaned against it, crossing one leg strut over another and crossing his arm struts over his chest plates. After a moment, his optics lifted to meet the Prime’s, giving a silent gesture that meant he was listening. Optimus glimpsed the dried coolant streaks over his cheek plates. How long had he spent crying?  
  
“Why didn’t you tell me Ironhide left? I understood that you two parted ways, but I’d assumed that it had been on neutral terms.”  
  
Ratchet answered without missing a beat, surprising the Prime.  
  
“You were about to be bonded. I wasn’t about to take away your happiness at that point in your life cycle with my problems. I figured that if at least one of us was happy, then that was enough for me.”  
  
Optimus’ spark flared, and he didn’t bother to draw back the sadness in his field as he stepped toward the doc-bot.  
  
“That is no excuse to withhold such pain for so long. If you had told me, I would’ve done everything in my power to help you! If you’d requested no sympathy, I would’ve given none, because you are my friend!”  
  
Ratchet closed his optics and shook his helm.  
  
“Sympathy was always your nature, Optimus. If I’d told you the truth and denied your empathy, you would’ve felt helpless, which would’ve helped neither of us.”  
  
Frustration began to build in his spark, and the Prime’s plating flared.  
  
“It is still no reason to lie… You _lied_ to me, Ratchet.”  
  
“I was trying to _protect_ you, Optimus.”  
  
He huffed, and anger surfaced on his faceplate.  
  
“Protect me?! From what?!”  
  
“The inevitable.”  
  
Ratchet said it so stoically that he recycled his optics and stared at the doc-bot. His plating slowly lowered as Ratchet pushed himself off the wall.  
  
“They’re all the same, Optimus. Every last one of them. They’ll love you, and they’ll leave you. They’ll use you for their own desires, and when they’re done they’ll ditch you for the next frag. I knew it when I met Ironhide, I’d seen it happen so many times to bots at the Academy. But I denied it. Because how could it have been true? Ironhide was different, I was _sure_ he was. How could he be anything like the others?”  
  
A dark chuckle escaped his intake as he spoke, optics never once straying from the Prime.  
  
“Oh, how wrong I was, and how right they had been… I let emotions blind me from the truth and paid the price. I learned my lesson, Optimus, and I promised myself I would never let the same happen to you. Ultra Magnus was a good mech, there was no denying that. But I knew it would only be a matter of time before something happened, and _you_ were left alone. Even the best of them will turn the other way… You didn’t deserve that.”  
  
Every word Ratchet spoke brought itself down harder on the Prime, and it took everything Optimus had to stand his ground. His faceplates began to twist as anger and sadness began to dance together, and he shook his helm in denial.  
  
“No… Ratchet, that’s not true. You know it isn’t.”  
  
Suddenly, the doc-bot threw his arms up and he snarled.  
  
“For Primus’ sake, _open your optics_ Optimus! Just look at our band! Bumblebee was only a _fling_ to that racer, Smokescreen, before he got bored with him! Wheeljack leaves Bulkhead almost every cycle for the thrill of a fight, and Bulkhead’s always left here just _waiting_ to get the comm that his bonded is dead! And Arcee? _Oh_ , don’t even get me _started_ on her love life! Between Tailgate, Arachnid, and Cliffjumper she’s the worst of us all!”  
  
_“Enough Ratchet!!”_  
  
Optimus shouted, losing control of his temper.  
  
“You will leave our band out of this, it isn’t about them! This is about _you_ and _Ironhide_!”  
  
Ratchet laughed incredulously.  
  
“Oh, now I suppose this is where you tell me that he’s changed for the better and wants to make it right?!”  
  
“But he _has_ , Ratchet! I spoke to him myself, he _has_ changed! And he _wants_ to make it right! He wouldn’t even ask for your forgiveness, he knows he doesn’t deserve it! He just wants to talk to you, try to explain—”  
  
_“Explain himself?!”_  
  
The doc-bot interrupted, his cold voice turning hysterical. It was too much. The agony tore at him, and all he wanted was for it to stop.  
  
“He is _past_ the point of explaining himself, and I am past the point of listening! _He left me!!_ That was his choice!!”  
  
The weight of the words came down on him, and he could’ve crumbled all over again. Instead, he vented quietly. His optics flashed cold as he stared at the bot before him.  
  
“Optimus Prime, you are a fool to have listened to the tales of a drifter. The sooner you understand the reality of what bots are like in this world, the better.”  
  
The Prime wanted to reach out and comfort his friend, do anything to take away the frigid anger in his gaze. But he didn’t, instead feeling sorrow well in his spark.  
  
“… What happened to you, old friend? I feel as if I do not know you anymore.”  
  
Ratchet’s expression did not change, but he spread his arms to gesture to himself.  
  
“Well guess what? This is what happens when you deny the truth. _This_ is me, this has _always_ been me. Pain changes you, Optimus, you know it as well as I… We’ve hidden so long in the throes rock and roll that it became bearable… Yet it never goes away, does it? Reality never changes.”  
  
“Ratchet…”  
  
Optimus spoke softly, trying once more to reach the doc-bot. But a whip of his razor-sharp field and a snarl was all he was given in return.  
  
“You are a fool, Optimus. An innocent, tragic fool. You will never understand. Everyone that loves you, will leave you. Because that’s the way it goes. Slaggit, _Ultra Magnus_ even left you! And soon enough, Megatron will grow bored of the bond you share, and severe it clean. Because _that’s just life!!”_  
  
The result was immediate. His spark twisted and flared within its casing, and Optimus recoiled backwards a step as if Ratchet had physically slapped him. Shock, anger, and most of all hurt flashed over his faceplates. This was not the Ratchet he knew. The Ratchet he knew would never have said anything like this to him. This Ratchet was cold and dark, like the empty parts of space, and filled with grief that turned to anger when prodded.  
  
But it was his turn not to care. Old scars had been ripped open and left to bleed. Their sting flooded his optics like tears, before they narrowed in rage. His entire frame was so tense his joints could’ve cracked. His faceplate was dangerously stoic.  
  
“Ultra Magnus _never_ left me… He was _taken from me!!”_  
  
The Prime hissed viciously, and his quiet, seething rage momentarily took Ratchet off guard.  
  
“And Megatron… He may be a _pain in my aft_ that enjoys driving me up the wall… But he is _nothing_ if not faithful to our bond. He _cherishes_ our bond, because in Kaon, that is all you will _ever_ have to endure your life cycles for.”  
  
Optimus turned on a heel, stalking back to the door and halting in front of it. He glared over his shoulder at Ratchet.  
  
“Your judgement is clouded by grief. You have turned bitter, the one thing you warned me most not to become… But we are who we choose to be. I believe Ironhide has chosen to change. So, you can either sit on your aft and dwell in the pain life has granted, or you can take a chance and listen to the mech who’s spark is as broken as yours. It is your choice.”  
  
Without another word, the Prime whipped through the door and out of the doc-bot’s apartment. Ratchet was hit by the hurt echoing in his field and was left to stare after him in slowly growing shock. And guilt.  
  
_Primus glitch me, what have I done?  
_  
Optimus stormed down the hall, emotions swirling around him like the wind in a storm. He didn’t even react when Megatron and Ironhide suddenly appeared at the other end of the hall, staring at him in worry. Though deep in his spark, something pulled taunt with anger came loose at the sight of the Kaonian pushing towards him. He’d felt every emotion that was in his spark.  
  
_He is nothing if not faithful._  
  
“What happened?”  
  
Megatron asked with a low growl, meeting the Prime in the middle and grasping the biceps of his arm struts. Concern, a hint of anger at his bonded’s pain, and protectiveness flooded their bond now that his emotions let him perceive it. Optimus shook his helm slowly, optics staring ahead at the emblem on the Kaonian’s chest plates and refusing to look back.  
  
“We’re going home.”  
  
He hissed, and the venom in it surprised his bonded. But it did not deter Megatron, it only made him nod once.  
  
“Alright.”  
  
They agreed, and that was that. He turned with the Prime and interlocked their servos as they walked away. Ironhide could only look on in his own shock.  
  
_“Optimus wait!!”_  
  
The familiar voice made the weapons’ master whirl around towards the other end of the hall. From an open doorway, Ratchet flew out, hoping to see the Prime turn so he could apologize for what he’d said. But he watched as neither Prime nor Kaonian paid heed to his call, and they disappeared around the corner. This is what his anger and resentment had gotten him; dejection.  
  
_Have I lost you too?_  
  
Ratchet and Ironhide were left on opposite sides of the hallway, and their optics locked once again. Ratchet’s frame tensed, and he sucked in a vent, though anger did not surface. There was no anger left, he’d taken it out on Ironhide already, and the rest he’d taken out on Optimus. Now, there was only desolation and pain. He found the same in Ironhide’s optics, overshadowed by something he could’ve called guilt.  
  
_I believe Ironhide has chosen to change._  
  
Suddenly, looking at Ironhide made him sick to his tanks for more reasons than one. Coolant burned like a torrent of acid rain and threatened to spill. Ratchet tore himself from the other’s optics and fled from the hallway, the door slamming behind him as he lost the fight against the onslaught of tears.  
  
Ironhide could do nothing but stand there, wondering if any of the mecha he’d seen walk away, would accept him if he followed.


	7. Chapter 7

Eventually, the weapons’ master decided to test his luck of the Prime’s good conscience and head back to his apartment. The walk was short, but day had given way to night, and the quieting streets only gave way to his inescapable thoughts.  
  
The fight was his fault. That much Ironhide knew.  
  
_Slaggit, maybe if I’d never come back, they’d be better off._  
  
If he’d never come back, Ratchet would’ve never been reminded of the pain he’d caused him. He would’ve never become so angry and resentful, pushing everyone away _including_ Orion. If he’d never come back, Optimus would’ve never tried to help him. He never would’ve had to consistently try to get in touch with Ratchet before he grew tired of waiting and went to the other’s apartment. He never would’ve been hurt as bad as he was. Or at least, that’s the impression Megatron’s outrage gave him.  
  
If he’d never come back, Ratchet and Optimus wouldn’t be on the verge of a broken friendship.  
  
A memory file suddenly surfaced, and he hesitantly let it play out in his processor. It was of Ratchet two weeks ago, when they’d crossed paths at the fountains for the first time in forty ano cycles. He could remember every detail as if it was happening all over again. The familiar fiery orange striped over a basecoat of white with a jagged zigzag on both of his forearms, perfectly visible as his crossed servos had dropped to his sides. He remembered how the light had played over his armor, making it glint as if the worn plating had a sparkling new gloss. The easily guarded, yet stunningly expressive pair of blue optics had never changed. Age had not changed Ratchet. He was still as striking as the cycle he’d left.  
  
That’s when it clicked.  
  
If he’d never come back, he’d never would’ve seen Ratchet again.  
  
And _that_ would’ve been the worst punishment of all.  
  
He dismissed the memory file, and suddenly his fists clenched.  
  
_Primus, frag it all!_  
  
What did it matter now even if he’d seen him? There was no chance he’d be forgiven, there’d never been a chance and he accepted that. But it hurt like the Pit to see how much it had affected Ratchet. He’d held hope that Ratchet had healed better than he did. But in the grand scheme of illusions, Ironhide only fooled himself. The mech he loved never healed, instead he only put it to the back of his processor. When he returned, the sting of that wound returned with a vengeance.  
  
At this point, that’s how this story would most likely would end. With bitterness, pain, and a reason to leave. That seemed to be the only thing he was good at; leaving.  
  
_“That’s the only thing I’m good at… Leavin’.”_  
  
His peds halted in mid-step.  
  
_“Couldn’t live without my freedom. Didn’t know how…”_  
  
_“Yet you still claim to love him, drifter?”_  
  
Ironhide’s optics cycled wide. The memory file of a long past conversation came to forefront as his own voice was countered by the smooth drawl of the red bartender in Kaon.  
  
_“… He’s my everythin’. He’ll always be.”_  
  
In his processor, the mech’s crimson optics scrutinized him carefully as he polished a cube. But there was a hint of compassion in his field that could only be felt by a wavelength.  
  
_“Then let me give you some advice from personal experience. If you love a bot enough that everything else falls away, even what you think is most important, then there’s no reason to be afraid of what comes next. You just have to hold them tight, learn to change if needed, and hope for the best.”_  
  
Ironhide recycled his optics as the memory file retreated. The words echoed in his audials, and he remembered how much they had changed him.  
  
_No._  
  
His fists clenched again, this time in conviction instead of pain.  
  
_I won’t leave._  
  
Ironhide had been a coward once, and it had been the worst mistake of his life cycles. This time, he would not back down. Courage of the spark had never been as easy as courage of a digit on the trigger. But it brought him back to Iacon. For Ratchet, Optimus, and their friendship he would stay and fix his mistake.  
  
For Ratchet, he would stay, and he would fight.  
  
_… Slaggit, but how? Can’t just walk up to either of them an’ talk my way through it again._  
  
He already knew how well _that_ worked out.  
  
The weapons’ master sighed, helm tilting back to stare at the Iaconian skyscrapers towering above. Bright squares glowing in scattered patterns over their surface indicated that bots were inside each apartment, enjoying the warmth and comfort of the light with their families. Around him, the streets began to bustle with the night crowds. The shops he passed as he walked were full and bustling. The restaurant on the other side of street with outside seating looked booked up with bots lined out the door.  
  
Music suddenly began to hum against his audials, and his helm pulled down to tip towards it. The building face beside him was in fact a bar, with colorful lights flashing out the open door as a hypnotic beat made the ground vibrate under his peds. Inside, so many bots were present that all tables had been taken and the rest were standing around the edges. All of them were pointed towards a stage where a band seemed to be playing.  
  
_Even the bars are packed._  
  
He grumbled, about to walk by when a sign in front of the door stopped him.  
  
_WHEN THE SPARK CAN’T TALK, IT SINGS! JOIN US FOR KARAOKE NIGHT!_  
  
It read, and he snorted at the cliché advertisement. Turning from it, he began to walk away.  
  
_When the spark can’t talk, it sings._  
  
The whisper rang in his audials. His peds slowed to a halt. Something about that statement struck a cable near his spark. Why did it sound so familiar?  
  
Ironhide looked back at the sign, optics scanning over the words once again. Inside the bar behind him, the sound of piano notes fluttered out of the door… And that’s when it hit him.  
  
_“You can stop the aching, cause you’re the one I need.”_  
  
His optics slowly began to cycle widen. That Primus pit-spawned television showing in a lousy bar in Tarn over seven ano cycles ago. Whispers floating over his audials had led to the sight of his medic-in-training, purring a melody of rock and roll that Ironhide had helped to instill in him so long ago…  
  
_When the spark can’t talk, it sings._  
  
Rock and Roll… His spark stumbled. The realization hit him like the especially hard slap to the faceplates given two weeks ago, and the weight of it sent him stumbling back a step.  
  
_Primus… I’ve been doin’ it all wrong!_  
  
His spark began to pound, and energy started to course through his piping. Ironhide took one last step backward from the sign, before whipping in the other direction and sprinting down the sidewalk towards a certain Prime’s apartment.  
  
There was still a way he could reach out to Ratchet, and hopefully there was still time. He hadn’t done this since the last time he’d been in Iacon, forty ano cycles ago. But this just _had_ to work.  
  
_It must._  
  
Primus just needed to give him one more chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey....  
> Did you catch the hint?  
> There's a familiar bot lurking in these pages that I didn't mention.   
> Can you guess...?
> 
> Yes I'm being sneaky, it's an ongoing problem.


	8. Chapter 8

There were certain unspoken rules in the home of the Autobot and Decepticon lead singers that Ironhide quickly learned to abide by. These were rules such as washing your own cube after you consumed it, knocking before entering the private wash-racks, and not changing the channel when the Prime was already watching something. The third rule he learned after the Kaonian had been chased out of the living space with a livid Iaconian on his tailpipe.  
  
“Megatron!!”  
  
Ironhide shouted as he burst through the door of the apartment, wildly searching for the Decepticon. The inside was dark and quiet, no movement to be found. It gave him the familiar feeling of when a rookie accidentally triggered their blaster in the moment of silence before ‘open fire!’ was commanded. It also confused him, they couldn’t have gone to recharge yet. Wasn’t this around the time he would return from work, and the couple would be in the living space after evening rations watching television?  
  
It was then that an irritated growl echoed from the hallway leading to the berth rooms, and out trudged the tall Kaonian. His bleeding red optics glowed against the darkness in the room, recycled twice in five nanoseconds to fend off letting them offline. He gazed at the weapons’ master with a raised brow plate.  
  
“Is bursting into a living space in the middle of the night cycle and shouting at the height of your voice box a quality acquired from the forces?”  
  
_Middle of the night cycle?_  
  
The weapons’ master quickly checked his chronometer, saw that it was in fact long into the night cycle, and realized quite late that he had accidentally broken one of the unspoken rules in this household: Never run into the living space in the middle of the night cycle shouting, with the intention of waking up the couple. Embarrassment flooded his field, and Ironhide rubbed a servo over the back of his neck strut.  
  
“Scrap, heh heh… Sorry. Did I wake Prime too?”  
  
Megatron grumbled, then sighed, and shook his helm.  
  
“He was already online. Still charged from the fight earlier. Never gets enough recharge as it is without this to add on top it… Did you need something, Ironhide?”  
  
The bulky mech jolted out of his embarrassed stupor as he was reminded of why he ran the whole way here.  
  
“I need your help.”  
  
He received a blink in response. Then, another raised brow plate as red optics narrowed.  
  
“If this has anything to do with Ratchet, I will throw you through the wall into the next apartment.”  
  
Megatron growled dangerously. Most of the time, Ironhide would pay threats no heed. He knew he could slag their afts to Vos and back. However, Megatron was usually true to his word, and he was one nasty fragger when he wanted to be. That was the reason Ironhide chuckled nervously before continuing.  
  
“Eh, heh heh, not exactly… Remember how I said I liked your work?”  
  
He could tell the Kaonian’s patience was running thin with him when Megatron placed his digits against the space between his optics and clenched them shut.  
  
“I don’t see how my work in song writing and performance can help you in the middle of the night cycle.”  
  
Ironhide silently took a deep vent, calming his still spark still whirling with energy, and gazed at the Decepticon evenly.  
  
_Well, here goes nothin’._


	9. Chapter 9

How long had it been since the fight? A week? His chronometer said one week.  
  
The cycles blurred together for Ratchet, counted only by the number of calls he’d made to the Prime’s link. Three calls, the light of the day is gone. Two more calls, his frame passed out from emotional exhaustion. Waking up to the sun high in the sky. Another four calls, still no answer. That’s how it went.  
  
Funny how their roles were reversed, and he was the one now begging forgiveness.  
  
But if Optimus truly decided that what was said could not be forgiven, then Ratchet would be lost…  
  
A long, terrible blur of light and dark had melded into the span of a week. As the seventh cycle winded down to the sun’s descent over the horizon, his comm link pinged.  
  
The comm code flashed over his optics, and Ratchet’s spark flipped in its casing. It made him aware of his surroundings again. Everything flew back at him and reality surfaced with the force of a punch. Bolting up and at the ready, his servos shook so hard that they were no longer under his control. He couldn’t breathe as he answered on the first ping.  
  
“O-Optimus…?”  
  
He asked quietly.  
  
The response he was given was stoic but edged with cold.  
  
“The bar near Swindles. One groon.”  
  
Silence laced his audials as the link was cut.  
  
Ratchet only remained unmoving for a klik, before his body was in movement. The door barely closed and locked after he burst through his apartment and sprinted down the hall.  
  
_Primus give me one more chance._

 ***

Ratchet paced up and down on the sidewalk in front of the bar for a while, arms crossed tightly over his chest plates and optics focused on the ground.  
  
When Optimus walked up to him, he barely noticed.  
  
“I thought pacing the ditch was my job.”  
  
It was an even statement, but the doc-bot jolted in step and whipped around towards it. The Prime stood before him, his own arms crossed, and a brow plate raised critically. He stepped towards him, field heavy with apology.  
  
“Optimus, I’m—”  
  
“Don’t.”  
  
He was silenced as the Prime shook his helm.  
  
“What’s done is done. It cannot be taken back… Frankly, Ratchet, this meeting wasn’t even my idea.”  
  
His energon grew cold. Not frigid, like in anger or panic, but chilled.  
  
“What?”  
  
His voice box cracked on the word.  
  
“Megatron told me to come here at this time, and to relay the message onto you.”  
  
The doc-bot blinked. _Megatron_ , of all bots?  
  
“But—if you… if he… what does this have to do with me?”  
  
**_“Femmes and Gentlemecha, please put your servos together for our next performers!”_**  
  
Both bots heard the speaker echo from inside the bar, and the applause that followed. An especially _loud_ applause, accompanied with appreciative shouts. Which was strange, considering it was probably just a small band playing inside.  
  
Simultaneously, Ratchet and Optimus walked towards the door, following the clapping servos and whistles inside. Three steps inside, they both froze. Megatron was on the tiny stage at the other end of the bar, setting up two microphones at the front, one a good head and shoulders shorter than the other. On his right, Soundwave’s feelers plugged cords into his keyboard as his digits turned the dials and tuned it. On his left, Bumblebee stood with his signature black and yellow guitar strapped over his shoulder as he plucked each note and twisted the little knobs to adjust them. Behind him, Bulkhead twirled the drumsticks in his servos as he looked up from his drums and spotted out the doc-bot and the Prime in the back. Both Autobots and Decepticons had come together on the little stage, melding together into a little band of their own. While not unheard of, it didn’t happen often. It left the Autobot lead singer and keyboard specialist to exchange a confused expression.  
  
Bulkhead leaned forward and muttered something to the other bots around him. A few nanoseconds afterwards, all of their helms turned towards the other side of the bar where the others were standing. Bumblebee smiled wide and waved, Soundwave mimicked the motion with his feeler. Megatron turned towards the back of the stage where the curtain disappeared, speaking to someone behind it.  
  
“Megatron… What are you doing?”  
  
Optimus must have deadpanned it over a link, because the Kaonian’s frame turned back towards the both of them, optics pointed towards his bonded. All he did was smile and flash a wink.  
  
Suddenly, another bot walked on stage, eliciting another applause. In the light of the stage, the dulled silver faceplates and dark red accents on his chest plates glimmered. Optimus’ optics cycled wide and Ratchet’s vents stilled.  
  
_Ironhide… What are you doing?_  
  
He was quiet, but not awkward as he took the place at the smaller microphone beside Megatron. The bulky mech had done this too many times before to do otherwise, even if it was so long ago. He tapped the mic lightly with a digit to test its sound performance, a gesture that had always been slightly ironic for a gruff mech like him. After a moment’s stillness, he cleared his intakes and spoke into it.  
  
“Haven’t done this in a while. You’ll have to bear with me if I’m a bit rusted.”  
  
A small bout of laughter rose from the crowd. He waited until it died out.  
  
“Better not waste any bot’s time, so I’ll get to the point…”  
  
Ironhide looked up and into the bar. Ratchet felt his spark still too when their optics locked from opposite sides of the room.  
  
“There’s a bot out there, a real amazin’ bot, I used to point him out every time I did this… But a long time ago I made a horrible mistake… I did wrong by him. I hurt him.”  
  
He paused, tipping his helm down from the mic to vent as he collected himself to speak again.  
  
“I want him to know I wrote this for him. And that he’s… he’s my everythin’.”  
  
Ratchet’s spark was caught between a pulse and a flare. Oh, did those last three words ring so familiar. They were one of the only memory files that stayed locked away in the back of his processor. Because if they had been opened, it wouldn’t have been bearable to live… Now here they hung in the air, against his audials, and the beginning melody of Soundwave’s keyboard wrapped around it.  
  
A few beats followed, and the Autobots brought in their instrument. Bulkhead tapped out a softer beat whilst Bumblebee struck light notes with tender digits. With their chorus, Ironhide accompanied words into the song.  
  
_“I'm not a perfect mech._  
_There's many things I wish I didn't do,_  
_but I continue learnin’._  
_I never meant to do those things to you.”_  
  
The old soldier’s voice rose in the middle and fell at the end. The gruff, raucous tone when he spoke fell to oblivion, and it gave way to a silvery, encompassing voice. It caressed like a gentle servo, just as it always had. Ratchet felt it pull at memories long buried.  
  
_“And so, I have to say before you go…_  
_That I just want you to know,”_  
  
Bumblebee’s guitar ramped up in base, and Optimus could feel the precise moment the song crossed over into the chorus. His shock melted away into a small smile as he realized that _this_ was what his bonded and the weapons’ specialist had been up to this entire week, away at the recording studio. Glancing at his side, he almost chuckled at the shock and nostalgia written over the doc-bot’s expression.  
  
_“I've found a reason for me_  
_to change who I used to be._  
_A reason to start over new,_  
_and the reason is you.”_  
  
Megatron joined in on accompaniment in the chorus, one chord lower than the bulky mech. And below them both came the base of the guitar.  
  
_Primus below…_  
  
The song was _soft_ , so so soft, like a thermal blanket under the sun. Ratchet couldn’t recall a time when Ironhide had ever sung something like this. He sung the hard ones, the heavy ones, and the freedom-born ones. He sang wildly, putting Predacon beasts to shame. It was what drew him into rock and roll, the thrill of such untamable music… Now, in his age, Ratchet wouldn’t admit out loud how wonderful this sounded. Raw, real, and wonderful.  
  
_You wrote this for me._  
  
The base lulled away, exchanged for the previous light melody with drums and a graceful piano.  
  
_“I'm sorry that I hurt you._  
_It's something I must live with every cycle._  
_And all the pain I put you through,_  
_I wish I could take it all away.”_  
  
Ironhide’s optics never wavered, never strayed from the other pair on the other side of the room. Ratchet remembered that gesture. It happened when he used to sit in the far corner booth to try to trick the drifter and see if he could find him in the audience. But at the end of every performance, after all the rollers that would rock the building to its foundation, he would sing the high-beat love songs Ratchet came to love so much. Ironhide had found him through everyone and would watch him through the whole song. They were for him.  
  
It spoke lengths of his sincerity in each word.  
  
Ratchet couldn’t contain a quiet sob.  
  
_“And be the one who catches all your tears._  
_That's why I need you to hear,”_  
  
Bumblebee ramped the base up with a flair only he could put into such a raw love song. This time, Optimus did chuckle. He knew very well that the way Soundwave’s helm tipped towards him meant more than Optimus should venture to ask.  
  
_“I've found a reason for me_  
_to change who I used to be._  
_A reason to start over new,_  
_and the reason is you!”_  
  
Ironhide’s voice lifted an octave on the final line of the chorus. Megatron followed, and they repeated it, floating up and down a note every other line.  
  
_“And the reason is you!_  
_And the reason is you!_  
_And the reason is you!”_  
  
_Oh Primus, Ironhide…_  
  
Ratchet felt every bit of emotion that came with such powerful words. He felt fear giving way to unbreakable courage. He felt shattering pain. He felt elation dancing together with wonder. He felt terrible anger with guilt following its every step. He felt… love. Beautiful, undying, spark defying love. Words could never have conveyed it like music did. And that love was for _him_.  
  
_You did this for me._  
  
When the base lulled away and exchanged for the previous light melody once again, Soundwave’s feeler made a quick tweak to a dial on the keyboard. Suddenly, violins wrapped around the music, and it made it all the more meaningful in that moment. Ironhide’s armor seemed to shudder for a moment, before he pushed on.  
  
_“I'm not a perfect person._  
_I never meant to do those things to you._  
_And so I have to say before you go,_  
_that I just want you to know.”_  
  
Ironhide’s voice rose one more time, and both Autobots and Decepticons came together in a soft, but incredible harmony to repeat the chorus.  
  
_You came back to Iacon, you glitched fool… You wrote a song for me._  
  
Ratchet’s optics misted over with coolant, and his servo came up to cover the next quiet sob that came from his intake. He clenched his optics shut.  
  
_“I've found a reason for me_  
_to change who I used to be._  
_A reason to start over new,_  
_and the reason is you.”_  
  
Megatron felt a pulse over a familiar bond attached to his spark, and his optics drifted towards a familiar Prime. His bonded was smiling knowingly at him, and it made a small one surface on his own face plates. It had been a clever idea of Ironhide’s, hadn’t it? When words seemed to fail, music spoke so well.  
  
_“I've found a reason to show_  
_a side of me you didn’t know._  
_A reason for all that I do,_  
_and the reason is you.”_  
  
He drew out the last note, the violins sung behind him, and the song fell into silence. Ratchet could feel Ironhide’s optics on him. He could feel their pull, whispering those sweet three words into his spark over and over again. A small smile twitched at his lip plates, and the coolant that refused to be fought back no longer shimmered with pain.  
  
Around them, the applause brought the old mechs back into reality. Optimus clapped beside Ratchet, nudging his field suggestively like the wink of an optic. Megatron subtly shoved at Ironhide’s shoulder, and the bulky mech snapped out of it to bow to his audience. Then, he quickly walked off stage, leaving the Autobots and Decepticons still present to shake their helms absently while disengaging their equipment.  
  
“I’d forgotten Ironhide used to perform. He hasn’t lost his touch.”  
  
Optimus said absently when the bulky mech left the stage. Ratchet snickered quietly, wiping the coolant streaks off his faceplate with a grin.  
  
“Guess not.”  
  
Bots in front of them suddenly began to whoop, holler, and part the way. Ratchet narrowed his vision to see what it was about, but Optimus’ smile began to grow.  
  
When Ironhide emerged from the crowd, Ratchet’s smirk fell away. He could only watch the weapons’ specialist approach, step by uneasy step, until they were half an arm’s length away, just like their meeting at the fountains.  
  
Their optics observed each other for a long, tense moment. Ratchet’s optics, which he was used to being so guarded and pointed, were wide and filled with emotion. The other’s field was unreadable, not because it was guarded either, instead because it flickered with so many emotions that it fluttered around him like a cloak. Ironhide’s lip plates pulled into a sad smile.  
  
“Hey Ratch.”  
  
He said quietly, only accompanied by an edge of his coarse voice. Ratchet’s vents malfunctioned, and it took them a klik to sputter back to life and cooperate.  
  
“Hello, Ironhide.”  
  
His voice was small, but thick in its response.  
  
The Prime’s optics flicked between the two bots before he jerked his thumb towards the stage.  
  
“I believe it would be best for me to assist the others in packing their equipment.”  
  
Optimus stated and excused himself, leaving Ratchet and Ironhide to stand before each other.  
  
So much had been said, and so much remained unsaid. There was a lot Ironhide still wanted to explain to Ratchet. There were words that Ratchet knew he needed to hear and give back in return. So much time had been lost between them, and if they had any hope to mend the gap between them… Well, best start now.  
  
“You and I need to talk.”  
  
Ratchet blurted suddenly, and it spooked them both. Ironhide recycled his optics before a chuckle rose from his intake. This time it was a little less nervous, and a little more at ease.  
  
“Didn’t get the chance to last time, did we?”  
  
It was small, but the ease smoothed away at Ratchet’s nervous field, and the side of his lip plate quirked up as he shook his helm. Ironhide shrugged his shoulders, the armor on them surrounding his helm shifting, and he gestured to the tables around the bar.  
  
“Where you wanna go?”  
  
The doc-bot’s optics scanned the bar, finding all the bots still lingering with high grade in servo and laughing boisterously. He turned on a heel, gesturing towards the door.  
  
“My apartment’s not far away. I want someplace quiet.”  
  
Ironhide stared at him for a moment, his audials registering the bossy quip like a familiar croon. His smile grew wide and he followed in step.  
  
“Alright, Ratch.”  
  
With a swing of the door, the old bots were gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Ironhide sang quoted (with edits for the story's purpose) The Reason by Hobbstank
> 
> I recommend listening to the song, It's one of my all time favorites.


	10. Chapter 10

_PING!_  
  
“What the-?!”  
  
Optimus Prime shot up in berth, spark beating against its casing and processor thrown into awareness at the loud ping that had shot through his processor. Beside him, Megatron grumbled as his bleary red optics shuttered open.  
  
“Optimus what is it?”  
  
The ping bounced around his processor once more, and that’s when the Prime noticed the comm code in his vision. A familiar one, that was calling two and a half groons before sunrise.  
  
“Oh, for Primus’ sake…”  
  
He groaned, pushing himself into a better sitting position and answering on the final ping.  
  
“Ratchet! Do you _realize_ what time it is?!”  
  
He snapped, ready to hang right back up on the doc-bot for his unreasonable timing. But something on the other side stopped him. It sounded long, breathy, and low in pitch.  
  
“O-Optimus?! W-What?!”  
  
The Prime paused, hearing the strain in the other’s voice. And pants. Ratchet was out of breath.  
  
“… Ratchet is everything alright? What’s going on?”  
  
On the other side of the link, Ratchet groaned in irritation.  
  
“Primus slaggit… Ironhide!! Did you activate my comm link?!”  
  
Obviously, the doc-bot wasn’t shouting at him, but Optimus still winced. So, the weapons’ master hadn’t ever come back to their apartment after leaving the bar with Ratchet. Megatron and Optimus were wondering if he would but crashed into recharge before they could find out. He was sure, whatever they were doing, Ironhide was wincing at the shout too. A long pause indicated the weapons’ specialist was responding to him.  
  
“Primus, you fraggin’ piece of scrap metal!! You did that on purpo—Ohhhh….”  
  
He snarled again, until his voice hitched and bled into a low groan. Optimus recycled his optics, and confusion laced his field. Two and a half groons before sunrise, Ratchet was scolding Ironhide one klik, and… moaning the next? The pieces started to fall into place for the Prime.  
  
“Ratchet…?”  
  
“Yes, I’m still here, Optimus. Forgive me for waking you, this time I’m turning off my comm- _LINK!!”_  
  
He suddenly shouted shrilly and ended off into a long moan. The Prime’s optics cycled as wide as they could possibly go, and his energon lines heated quickly.  
  
“Ratchet are you-?!”  
  
But the link cut off before he could finish.  
  
Optimus was left stunned as he stared ahead, frame heated by the sounds he’d just heard and fans clicking onto cool them.  
  
“… Do I dare ask what’s going on?”  
  
Megatron rumbled, propping himself up on his elbows next to his bonded.  
  
Optimus turned towards him, clearing his intake when he realized his fans had dialed up a notch.  
  
“I think Ratchet called me in the middle of interfacing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Side Note*   
> After that declaration, Megatron laughed his sides sore for five kliks straight. Then he looked at his hopelessly turned on Prime, and THEY FRAGGED. The end.
> 
> Look I even added a happy ending, just for you people.   
> And some fragging. I know you like the fragging.   
> Rock on.


End file.
